Peter Trawl Part 19

All the hands, except the man at the helm, were crouching down under the weather-bulwarks to avoid the showers of spray flying in dense ma.s.ses over us. The sea had increased, and though we had not much sail set, the brig was heeling over to the furious blasts which every now and then struck her; if she righted it was only to bend lower still before the next.

"Do you want to lose your lives or keep them, lads?" shouted the mate, after sounding the well. "Well then, I can tell you that if you don't turn to at once and work hard, and very hard, too, the brig will be at the bottom before the morning."

Still the men did not move. Jim was holding on near me.

"Come, let you and me try what we can do," I said; "we have pumped to good purpose before now."

Jim needed no second asking. Seizing the brakes, we began, and pumped away with all our might, making the water rush across the deck in a full stream. Before long one man got up and joined, then another, and another. When we got tired and cried, "Spell ho!" the rest took our places.

"I see you want to save your lives, lads," cried the mate, who occasionally took a spell himself. "But you must keep at it, or it will be of no use."

All that day we stood on, the crew pumping without intermission.

"If the wind moderates we'll set more sail," said the mate; "but the brig has as much on her as she can bear. We must be soon looking out for land, though. You, Peter, have a sharp pair of eyes--go aloft, and try if you can see it."

Though the vessel was heeling over terribly at the time, I was about to obey, when Jim said, "No, you stay on deck; let me go, Peter."

To this I would not agree.

"Then I'll go with you," said Jim.

So we both crawled up the weather-rigging together. Jim said he thought that he saw land on the starboard bow, but I did not get a glimpse of it, and felt sure that he was mistaken; at all events there was no land visible ahead. We remained aloft till darkness came on, and there was no use remaining longer.

We made our reports to the mate. He said that Jim was right, and that we had probably pa.s.sed the South Foreland.

This was, however, I suspected, only to encourage the men to keep at the pumps. All night long, spell and spell, we laboured away. When the morning broke no land was in sight. By this time we were all pretty well knocked up, and most of the men declared that they could pump no longer.

The mate now tried to make them keep on, reminding them that if they did not they would lose their lives. Some answered that they would take their chance, but Jim and I and others kept at our duty. Even we, however, began to feel that the struggle would be useless unless we should soon make the land, for the mate could not deny that the water was gaining on us.

The wind, however, began to moderate, and the sun bursting forth from between the clouds cheered us up a little.

At last the captain came on deck. After looking about him for some time he told me to go below and get his quadrant. He was apparently sober, and seemed to have forgotten what had happened.

"Have you a second one, sir?" I asked.

"No; bring the one I always use," he answered.

"You hove it at the mate yesterday, sir," I said. "And he fell and broke his."

"What lies are you telling, youngster?" he exclaimed, uttering a fearful oath. Then he shouted to the mate, who had gone forward to be out of his way.

"Did I heave my quadrant at you?"

"Yes, you did," answered the mate. "You made me break mine, too, and if we lose our lives you'll have them on your head."

The captain made no reply. I think that the occurrence must have flashed on his mind. He looked at the compa.s.s, took two or three turns on deck, and then ordered more sail to be set, directly afterwards changing the s.h.i.+p's course to north-west. I therefore supposed that we were steering for the Downs, or perhaps for Saint Helens. The men, though very tired, went on pumping far more willingly than before.

A bright look-out was kept for land, but no land appeared. For some hours the brig made fair progress, but as the evening drew on the wind again got up. The captain had gone below. He could not resist taking a pull at the rum bottle. We were carrying topsails and topgallantsails.

A sudden squall laid the brig over. The captain sprang on deck and shouted--

"All hands shorten sail! You, Peter and Jim, up aloft with you and hand the main-topgallant-sail."

The blast had pa.s.sed over and the brig had righted. Jim and I ran aloft to obey the order.

The rest of the people were still on deck except one man, who had gone up the fore-rigging, about to let fly the sheets and brail up; but, nearly worn out with labouring at the pumps, they must have very slowly obeyed the orders they received, for almost before a sheet was let go, another furious squall struck the brig. Over, over she heeled.

Jim and I slid down into the main-top.

"Hold on, whatever happens," cried Jim.

The warning was given not a moment too soon. There was a fearful cracking sound, the mast quivered, it was almost right over the water, and just as the brig was on her beam-ends it gave way, tearing out the chain-plates on the weather side, and Jim and I were hurled with it into the raging sea.

I expected every moment that we should be washed off as the mast was towed along, and so we must have been had not the lee shrouds given way.

To regain the brig was impossible; the next instant the mast was clear and the brig drove on. Before she had got a cable's length from us the foremast also went by the board.

We could see no one on it as it was towed along. A minute or more pa.s.sed.

The mast to which we clung rose to the top of a sea, we saw the brig plunge into another. Again we looked, for one instant we saw her stern, and the next she was gone.

We were too far off to hear a cry. The foremast must have been drawn down with her. The boats were securely lashed. Nothing that we could see remained floating. We knew that our late s.h.i.+pmates had perished.

Our own condition was fearful in the extreme. At any moment we might be washed from our hold! Now our head were under water! Now we rose to the top of a sea and looked down into a deep gulf below us.

"Hold on; hold on, Peter," cried Jim, who was clinging on the mast close to me. "Don't give up. Here, I've cut a piece of rope for you. Lash yourself on with it. I'll get a piece for myself presently."

I wanted him to secure himself first, but he insisted that I should take the rope, and I lashed myself with it. He soon afterwards secured himself in the same way. We might thus prolong our lives; but should we be able to hold out till a pa.s.sing vessel might pick us up? I asked myself.

We were far away from land, and hours, perhaps days, might go by before the mast was seen, and only our dead bodies would be found. We had no food, no fresh water; night was coming on. I did not tell my thoughts to Jim, nor did he say what was pa.s.sing in his mind; but we tried to cheer each other up. For an instant the clouds broke asunder in the west, and the sun, just as he sank below the horizon, bursting forth, shed a bright glow over the foaming ocean.

"He'll not be long down," cried Jim, "and he'll warm us on t'other side when he rises."

Jim's remark did me good. We had cause to hope for the best. The squall which had carried away the brig's masts was the last of the gale.

The wind rapidly fell, and the sea went down, so that in a short time we could keep ourselves almost entirely out of the water. The mast became more quiet. Had we not lashed ourselves to it when we fell asleep as we both did now and then, we might have dropped off. We talked as much as we could, both to keep up our spirits and to prevent ourselves from dozing. Thus the night pa.s.sed. It seemed long enough, but not so long as I expected. I must have closed my eyes when I heard Jim shout, "A sail! A sail!" and opening them I saw a large s.h.i.+p under all sail about a couple of miles away, standing on a course which we hoped would bring her near us.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

JIM AND I CARRIED OFF AGAINST OUR WILL.

"Shall we be seen, Jim, think you?" I asked, after we had gazed at the s.h.i.+p some minutes without speaking.

"Ain't quite certain," answered Jim, in a sad voice; "if I thought so, I could sing for joy, that I could, but the s.h.i.+p's a long way off, and maybe she'll haul closer to the wind and pa.s.s us by."

"Oh, Jim! Let us pray that she'll not do that," I exclaimed. "She's standing, as far as I can make out, directly towards us, and why should we fancy that we are to be deserted? Cheer up, Jim! Cheer up!"

"That's what I'm trying to do," said Jim. "Still we must not make too certain. If she doesn't pick us up another vessel may. We are in the track of s.h.i.+ps going up and down Channel, and that's one comfort."